


It was Never Just Coffee

by TheSopherfly



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky likes making Tony happy, Coffee, Coffee Addict Tony Stark, Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Loves Coffee, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 07:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSopherfly/pseuds/TheSopherfly
Summary: Bucky starts making Tony coffee.Really goodcoffee. Finally, Tony asks why.





	It was Never Just Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an unanswered prompt from imaginetonyandbucky.
> 
> Prompt: Bucky has a talent for making good coffee. Amazing coffee, really. Tony, as everyone knows, has a coffee problem. (And if that makes for a great excuse to spend more time with Bucky, well…) (Basically, fluffy coffee-themed shenanigans? Please?)
> 
> Also includes a dialogue prompt from oopsprompts. Thanks so much for the inspiration!

 

 

The first time Bucky made him coffee, Tony was half-asleep.

“Oh my _god_ , that smells good.”

Tony was still several yards from the kitchen, but that hardly mattered. He could smell a pot of coffee percolating from a mile away. It was like a siren song. It _called_ to him. It probably didn't help Tony to be so addicted to the stuff; but on the scale of addictive substances, it was relatively harmless. And it helped him stay awake to make new tech. Good for him or not, he wasn't quitting any time soon.

Tony shuffled into the kitchen, drawn to the familiar smell, that burbling sound warming him in a way that only the thought of coffee could.

He hadn't thought to question who might be _making_ the coffee. His mind, running on less than empty, hadn't gotten quite that far. Still, he was more than a little surprised when his eyes landed on Bucky Barnes.

He was in the middle of cleaning up. Tony watched as he put the small bag of Copper Horse blend back into the cabinet, reaching with his metal arm. There was something so easy about that movement. The prosthetic wasn’t causing him pain any more, and it was so damn satisfying to see his range of motion restored.

Since fixing the arm, Tony saw Bucky a lot less. He couldn’t decide if he liked that or not. Was it better, being around the person you were attracted to and having to hide it? Or not being around them at all?

When he wasn’t with Bucky, Tony could convince himself his feelings were irrelevant. He could distract them out of his mind with tech and formulas and strategies. But whenever he and Bucky were in the same room - well. It was sort of like torture. Really wonderful torture. Looking, but not being able to touch. Wanting, and not being able to say so. Not being brave enough or stupid enough to do anything about it.

It almost made Tony believe that avoiding Bucky was the better plan. Almost.

“Mornin’,” Bucky said gently, turning around and smiling at him. _God_. If looks could kill, that smile would’ve stopped Tony’s heart. “You’re up early.”

Tony nodded in agreement. “Haven’t slept yet.”

“When’s the last time you did sleep?”

Tony took in a breath as if to answer, then paused. When had he slept? Not yesterday, not the day before… Oh boy. He didn’t actually know.  _“That_ is a very good question.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, looking more amused than surprised. “Sounds to me like what you need is sleep, not coffee.”

“But it smells _so good_.”

Tony groaned dramatically, covering his face in his hands. He heard Bucky moving behind him, and then there was the sound of porcelain on the island’s granite countertop. Tony lifted his head, peering through spread fingers. It was his Paris cup - the one with the Eiffel Tower painted artfully on the side - and it was full of delicious, steaming-hot coffee.

Tony grabbed the cup with both hands and brought it to his lips to take a sip, temperature be damned. “Oh my _god_.”

It tasted even better than it smelled. How was that possible? Tony had made this coffee before, and it had never tasted like _that_. He took another sip, the cup still too full for him to take greedy gulps.

“You have no idea how much I needed this,” Tony breathed, keeping the cup close to his mouth.

“Actually. I sorta made it for you in the first place.”

Tony blinked, tilting his head to the side. “You did?”

Bucky shrugged, like somehow making coffee specifically for Tony wasn’t a big deal. “Didn’t think you’d come out of the shop by yourself. This was s’posed to be incentive.”

“That’s a good bribe. Probably would’ve worked.”

What Tony didn't say was that he wouldn't have needed the coffee - Bucky could’ve lured him out of the workshop with nothing but a smile.

~

The second time Bucky made him coffee, it was nearly midnight, and Tony was up to his elbows in spandex.

“If you’re here to tell me to go to sleep, you can forget it.”

Tony didn’t look up, not until Bucky was right next to him, and even then he was barely looking, unwilling to be distracted. Spider-Kid had somehow managed to tear through his suit, and Tony was in the middle of testing the elasticity of the fabric. Stretchy and durable was a tough balance to strike. It needed to move with Peter’s body, but it _also_ needed to keep him from getting road burn if he was launched off a motorcycle. Again.

Bucky didn’t say anything. Instead, he set a mug down on the table, just to the left of the suit. Tony frowned.

It was coffee. Bucky had brought him coffee.

It wasn’t just plain coffee, either. It was some kind of latte, with a leaf pattern in the foam on the top. It looked professional, like something you’d get at one of those hipster coffee shops that was trying way too hard, and Tony stared at it for a long time, mesmerized.

“What’s this?”

“It’s coffee.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s _coffee_. But it’s also… art. You made me coffee art.”

“Ain’t that hard to do.”

Carefully, Tony set the spider-suit down and picked up the mug. He really didn’t want to ruin something so intricate and perfect - but it looked good, and it _smelled_ good, and he was in desperate need of a pick-me-up. He took a drink, the foam coating his upper lip, and his tongue swept out to lick it clean.

“That,” Tony started, meeting Bucky’s eyes, “is a damn good latte.”

Tony licked his lips again, and Bucky's eyes tracked the motion, lingering there for a few seconds too long. Tony didn't know what to make of that. Was it - was that _interest_ written into Bucky’s smile?

No, Tony decided. That couldn't be it. Bucky was just happy he liked the coffee. That was all.

~

The third time Bucky made him coffee, Tony couldn't stop staring.

Bucky had foregone the coffee maker in favor of the French press, and oh my _god_ , wasn’t that a sight. Tony couldn’t take his eyes off Bucky’s hands. All that strength, distilled down to handle something small and delicate - it took his mind somewhere else, and Tony swallowed, caught off guard by the idea of Bucky using those hands on _him_. It was a good thing Bucky couldn’t read his thoughts, because that mental image persisted until Bucky was doing the ‘pressing’ part of the French press, pushing the plunger down.

Tony was quiet as he took what was now a full cup from Bucky’s hands, not quite trusting himself not to blurt out something stupid. He stared at it, waiting for it to cool, feeling Bucky’s eyes on him as he watched the tendrils of steam curl up and disappear into the air.

“You’re s’posed to drink it,” Bucky teased.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don't rush me.” Tony lifted the cup slowly and took a sip, humming his approval. Damn. If Bucky's regular coffee was good, his French press coffee was _phenomenal_. “I think you're my new favorite person.”

“Just ’cause I made you coffee?” Bucky looked unconvinced. “That's all it takes?”

Tony shrugged, offering Bucky an innocent smile. “That's all it takes.”

~

The fourth time Bucky made him coffee, Tony was a piping hot mess.

There was something about that shield. Tony had repainted it, and it hadn’t done a damn thing. It didn’t matter who was throwing it. It didn’t matter how it came at him. It had only been a simulation, and Tony had _still_ frozen like a fucking deer in headlights, his veins turned to ice.

Tony could’ve played it off. Those webs had yanked the shield out of his path with so many seconds to spare. He could’ve just pretended it hadn’t happened; could’ve finished out the combat sim with nobody the wiser. Instead, he’d stormed off the field, not saying a word.

And now here he was, holed up in the media room with the lights off, _Some Like it Hot_ playing in the background as he stared, unseeing, at the wall.

He heard the door open behind him, then a few quiet footsteps before it clicked shut.

“Tony.”

Tony didn’t respond. He heard Bucky moving again, and then Bucky was coming around the couch, blocking the TV screen. As if Tony had really been watching, anyway.  

“Hey.” Bucky crouched down in front of him, hands resting on Tony’s knees. “You alright?”

“Always,” Tony said reflexively, not believing it for a second. Bucky held his gaze, looking soft and warm and more _understanding_ than he had any right to be.

“You fool a lot of people,” Bucky said, calm and matter-of-fact. “But you ain’t foolin’ me.”

That just wasn't fair. Bucky saw through him like he was made of glass.

“I just - every time I see that thing, I _freak out_. I don’t know if it’ll ever stop.” Tony dragged a hand through his hair. He wasn’t going to cry. He _wasn’t_. Just because he hadn’t slept in days, just because his composure was balanced so precariously on a wire-

Bucky’s hands squeezed his thighs with gentle pressure, and Tony blinked, shaking his head.

“Sorry. Sometimes I start thinking and I sort of disappear for a second.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.” Bucky got to his feet, and Tony mourned the loss of contact when he drew his hands away. “I’ll be right back.”

Tony didn't have to wait long. Bucky returned just over a minute later, holding a mug in his metal hand.

Tony frowned, wondering whether his eyes were playing tricks on him. “Did - did you make a pot of coffee?”

“Nah. The Keurig’s faster.” Bucky passed the mug over to him, and Tony took it gingerly, still not quite believing that Bucky had made him coffee just to help him feel better.

“Right.” Tony did his best to smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tony held the mug near his mouth and breathed deeply, then tipped some of the liquid past his lips. This had come out of a K-Cup, and it still tasted incredible. How did Bucky do that?

“Can I sit?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

They sat together in silence, Tony sipping on his coffee, Bucky staring at the screen, their bodies _so close_ but not quite touching. Bucky radiated warmth, and Tony longed to curl into him, to turn and bury his face in Bucky's chest. He settled for taking another pull of his coffee, letting the bitterness wash over him.

_Torture,_ Tony thought, settling the coffee in his lap and turning his attention to the screen. _Really wonderful torture._

~

The fifth time Bucky made coffee, Tony decided to confront him.

“You don’t like coffee.”

Bucky, who had been measuring grounds into a filter, set the spoon aside and turned around. “What makes you think that?”

“You never drink it.”

Of course, Tony hadn’t gotten there by himself. He hadn’t realized - not until Natasha had all but smacked him over the head with it - that Bucky _didn’t like coffee._

Tony hadn’t wanted to believe her. Bucky was better at making coffee than anyone Tony had ever met. If Thor was the God of Thunder, then Bucky was the God of Coffee, hands down. How could he not _like_ it? And if he truly didn't like it, why would he bother to make it at all?

“You never drink it,” Tony continued, “but you make it for me anyway. Why is that?”

Bucky didn’t respond, not even when he’d closed up the coffee maker and turned it on. He just stood there, his jaw set, leaning back against the counter.

_“Bucky_.”

Bucky shook his head, silently begging Tony to drop it. “It ain’t a big deal.”

Tony took a step closer to him, arms crossed, refusing to back down. “It's a big deal to me.”

Bucky sighed, and there was something fond in the way blue eyes swept Tony's face. “I like seein’ you happy.”

It was so unexpected, the way Tony's heart leapt up into his throat. He breathed out, his lips parting softly, and maybe those were tears stinging his eyes-

And then, all at once, Bucky was closing the distance, cupping the back of Tony's head and guiding him gently into a kiss.

~

The next time Bucky made him coffee, Tony was still in bed.

He lifted his head at the familiar smell, lowering it again when he felt the mattress dip. Bucky slid back under the covers, and then he was spooning Tony, curled protectively around him, head resting on Tony's shoulder.

“Hmm.” Tony scooted further back, feeling Bucky smile against his neck. “That smells _so good_.”

“It's just coffee.”

Tony shook his head, lacing his fingers with Bucky's. “It was never just coffee.”

Bucky dropped a soft kiss just behind Tony's ear. “Yeah. Guess you're right.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Find me and my fic updates on [tumblr](https://sopherfly.tumblr.com).


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